“Maple Street is right here in Oakridge, Penelope,” Clara said, pressing the sheet back into my fingers.

“And thirty-eight separate transfers of eight hundred dollars comes to thirty thousand four hundred dollars.”

“Thirty thousand four hundred dollars out of our joint savings,” I said, staring at the printed bank codes.

“That’s a full mortgage payment on a private cottage,” Clara said, laying two fingers lightly on my wrist.

“Are you going to ask him about Westfall when he comes home for supper tonight?”

“Not till I’ve got the whole record in my own two hands,” I said.